What a Woman Can Do Ch. 01

I once had an older lover, but he died. Which was, and still is, very, very sad, because no-one has ever loved me like this man did. And not just physically, though he would bring me to multiple, screaming, twitching, incredible orgasms, one after another in a blur, until I couldn't move for days, weeks, months.

No, only hours really. But he fucked me senseless. Again and again and again. Mainly with his fingers, up against walls and trees and pillars and cars and ... well anywhere really. He would take me out for a coffee or a drink, and finger fuck me to shattering orgasms right in the coffee shop, or the club. Sitting there having my coffee or my glass of wine, with two fingers lazily fucking me.

Damn, I liked that! Still do.

He also loved me emotionally. We were close, oh so close. And we could talk. Talked for hours, days, weeks, at a time. About everything. Nothing was off limits. He had an insatiable curiousity and he sparked mine back into life after 12 years of schooling and 2 Uni degrees had smashed it to pieces. He would talk for hours about my smile -- how it made his spirits soar. The darkest day had no defences against my smile. He called my smile one of Nature's greatest wonders.

Or we would talk about life and the Universe and the meaning of it all.

He once said after a particularly sensational fuck, 'Even if life is meaningless, fucking you makes it all worthwhile.'

Damn, I miss him. Just before he died, my lover gave me a mission.

'You are a sensational woman, who cheers up the most depressed man just by walking by. I want you to go about cheering up men. Some with a smile; some with a hug; some with hot, slippery sex. But every week, your mission is to bring a smile to the face of 50 men. Which is probably way too few, as you could get 30 to smile just by walking down the street and smiling at 31 men. The other one was probably preoccupied, and missed your smile. No breathing man could resist that smile.'

'You can give men so much pleasure,' he said. 'Why don't you?'

At his funeral, I resolved to fulfil the mission he had given me. I smiled at the minister. He smiled back. He came over.

'Did you know him well?' he asked.

'Very well,' I replied. 'We were lovers -- emotionally and mentally, as well as physically.'

'He was a very lucky man then,' the minister said.

Inside an hour, the minister was fucking me up against a wall, not far from the cemetery.

'That was incredible,' he panted after he came. 'I doubt I have had better sex in my life. Not that I have had much.'

I never saw him again, but I like to think he thinks fondly of me. I went for a coffee, and chatted to the barista making my coffee. He smiled and laughed and flirted. When I left the shop, he told me to come back real soon, as I brightened the place up. Already I had given pleasure to 2 men -- 2 strangers -- and had enjoyed it immensely too.

My path was set. I started watching men. I noticed that not many of them were happy. Yet if I smiled at them or touched them or rubbed their shoulders, they changed. Suddenly they were happy and smiling and delightful company. If I rubbed my tits on their back as I rubbed their shoulders, most of them moaned.

'Oh, that is so good,' they would say. 'You can do this to me anytime.'

Other women would get cranky with me, until I explained my mission. They would try smiling at men, and almost always noticed the difference. Some women, however, just scared men when they smiled at them, so had to think of other ways to give them pleasure. They all did. Men get such immense pleasure from women, but we withhold our smiles and our hugs as if we only had a couple to give out.

My old lover had also taught me how to handle men who come on too strong. Or stared at me.

'Ninety-nine per cent of men aren't trying to offend you. They are either hoping to get lucky with a gorgeous woman, or they lack basic communication skills. Or both. Just tell them you're saving yourself for marriage or the orgy on Saturday night. There are a million ways to let a man down gently, that still leaves him smiling. Find them.'

And he was right. There are a million ways to handle a man so that you both end up smiling. I've found 675,879 already, and I've just begun. You just need a witty, playful attitude. A great smile and big eyes help too. So does a sensational arse. Big, firm tits and a deep cleavage work really well with some men. Damn near all of them actually.

My old lover said I had saved him from deep, dark depression when he had all but given up on life. He said I could do the same for almost any man, because I had the lot -- intelligence, personality and looks.

'There is no end to you,' he said. 'I find you endlessly fascinating. Never boring. Always delightful to be with, even when you are down. It is sheer pleasure to comfort you and lift you up again. When you cry, you are utterly irresistible. I don't know whether to hug you, or fuck your brains out.'

Often he did both. They were incredible fucks.

One of the blokes at work seemed a bit down lately. Not very happy. Hardly ever smiled. A bit grim. Even my smiles had little effect. I thought I would put my old lover's theory to the test and try to cheer him up. I asked him if he wanted to join me in a coffee one afternoon. He looked surprised, but readily accepted. When we had our coffees, I started to find out how things were for him. Subtly. Gently.

Eventually, I said, 'You've been looking a bit grim of late. Is everything OK?'

The change was remarkable. He started breathing a little harder. I thought he was going to cry.

'No,' he said. 'My mate died two months ago, from cancer. Only 42, he was. I've been pretty depressed ever since. Haven't got anyone I can really talk to about how I'm feeling. I go home to my little place, eat a meal all by myself, watch TV and go to bed alone. '

A tear started rolling down his cheek.

'I feel completely, totally and utterly alone in the world. I'm 35 and I haven't got anything and no hope. Nothing to live for. Everything is black.'

More tears rolled down his cheeks.

'You're the first person to notice I'm depressed and actually ask me how I'm feeling. '

I held one of his hands and rested my other hand on his shoulder.

'Why don't we have a drink after work and talk about this more?' I asked. 'I suspect you need at least a couple of hours and a few drinks to talk through your feelings.'

'That would be really good,' he said, looking into my eyes and smiling weakly.

About 5 hours later, we had had dinner and a bottle of wine between us. I was using those active listening skills I had learnt as a telephone counsellor to gently draw Ben out. Slowly he revealed his feelings. Told me about his childhood and his hard, harsh, angry mother. And his lightweight father who was seldom around and never, ever stood up to his cranky wife.

Ben had grown up believing he was complete rubbish as a person, and that he was unlovable. Damn, they didn't even like him! Which baffled me as he is very intelligent with 3 Uni degrees. He has a wicked personality, with a great sense of humour. And he is pretty good looking.

Funny, I'd never noticed that before. He was in mighty fine shape. Did a lot of exercising and refereed basketball. Ten to 15 games a week. But had never married. Had had no success with women. Hadn't had a girlfriend for 8 years. Hadn't had sex for 9. Found it hard to talk to women. Much preferred the company of blokes.

'Though I am finding talking to you very enjoyable,' he said.

'I like talking to you too,' I replied.

And I did. He really was great company. Though he did cry again, shortly, over dinner. He gave one very powerful sigh, and trembled for a few seconds. Then he stopped.

'No-one has ever listened to me like this before,' he said. 'The effect is remarkable. I suddenly feel like I'm a likeable person.'

He looked at me.

'I've never felt that before. Thank you.'

I thought I was going to cry.

'I've never met a woman who was so easy to talk to, and so easy to be with. Plus you're gorgeous. What are you doing out with a guy like me?'

I was going to cry.

'You're not too bad yourself,' I said. 'You're smart, got a great personality and you're pretty easy on the eye.'

'Hmmm,' he hmmm'd, 'I'd never looked at myself like that. I think you might be right.'

He laughed. Damn, he had a nice laugh. Damn, it was great to see him laugh. He smiled at me. He had a fine smile too. I think I was going to give him more than a goodnight hug. It would be a waste of a wonderful evening not to teach him how to pleasure a woman. I would enjoy that. He might too.

'What's the best sex you ever had?' I asked him, snuggling in closer and putting my hand on his thigh.

We were in a secluded part of the club. The lights were down low. It was perfect for a seduction. I didn't think he would put up much of a fight.

'It's hard to remember,' he mused. 'But it was definitely when the woman came. I love watching a woman come. So does every bloke I've ever asked. Women look incredible when they cum. If there is one thing I'm good at, it is making a woman cum -- as many times as possible.'

'I love to cum,' I whispered in his ear. 'I could cum in here with a couple of male fingers finger fucking me. It would be very easy, and oh so pleasant.'

I moved his hand between my legs.

'Do you want to finger fuck me?'

'I'd love to.'

'Please.'

'Sure.'

'Make me cum.'

'With pleasure.'

And he did.

Oh, he was good. Very, very, very good. He pleasured me so beautifully. Slid one finger, then two, up my pussy. Right up me. Kissed me too. He was a mighty good kisser. Pulled my hair, forcing my head back. I went all submissive. He took control of me. Fuck that was good. This man was brilliant. I didn't have to teach him anything. He certainly knew how to pleasure a woman. He sure pleasured me. Finger fucked me slow and gentle for about 5 minutes. Set me on fire. I was ready to be fucked over the bar, I was that hot.

Then he pulled my hair quite hard, kissed me hard, and finger-fucked me ferociously. It was hard, fast, brutal. And utterly delicious. And he just kept doing it. No man could ever fuck you with his cock like that. It would be impossible. I started twitching and knew I was going to cum.

And I did. Fuck did I cum. So fucking hard. I put my hand on his. When I couldn't bear it any longer, I grabbed his hand and moved it away. Then I sat there panting. I slumped against him.

'Fuck, that was indescribable,' I whispered in his ear.

'My pleasure, you gorgeous woman,' he whispered back.

We finished our drinks and left. I needed to have his cock in me. Very, very quickly. And, as it turned out, he had a long, wickedly curved cock that hit all the right spots -- and then some. I came impaled on it. In fact, I came several times that night. And twice in the morning. Damn he was a great lover!

'That was the best night of my life,' he told me the next day. 'And the best sex. I never knew it could be that good.'

'It was sensational sex,' I told him. 'Up there with the best I've ever had.'

And it was.

If giving men pleasure was going to be this much fun, I was definitely going to enjoy this mission I was now on. Could easily become a lifelong mission.